A Lament to Dale and to Hope
by RangeroftheSouth
Summary: Bilbo and the Company have decided to explore the ruins of the city of Dale. Bilbo for the first time in his life is exposed to the destruction of dragon fire and the sculptures of death it has created. He begins to understand the destructive force of Smaug, the waning pain of grief and the faint glimmer of hope brought in a song. Rated T for vivid descriptions.


**This one shot is based off some footage that I found on YouTube and was not used in TDOS, it shows the Company exploring the ruins of Dale. This is based in the movie- verse. Rated T for vivid descriptions of remains.**

 **And now for the formalities: I do not own any of J. or Peter Jackson's work. All rights belong to them and this is purely a work of fanfiction.**

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The city of Dale was frozen in a moment. From afar it looked ghostly with the mist that clung to its walls and the breeze that echoed through the empty homes. And standing within the city itself sent shivers running up Bilbo Baggins's spine.

The street before them was littered with charred bodies, their faces still held their screams, their expressions of fear. Brittle wagons were left untouched, the goods they once held now turned to dust and sometimes with the body of its scorched owner beside it.

Bilbo did not understand how some of the dwarves had remained expressionless as they strolled through the market square. He had never experienced such death before and it set a stone sinking in his belly. He gazed upwards and somewhat regretted it as the sun shone upon the crumbling houses that towered overhead and illuminated the remains of men who had died in an instant.

He watched as the sun stretched out over the street and touched the charred body of a man who lay a top a young girl in the hopes of saving her. Bilbo moved carefully around them, not wanting to disturb the scene of death before him.

He tucked his trembling hands into his jacket sleeves and scrunched the hem between his fingers as he passed Bifur who knelt beside the remains of a child and held her (he could only assume) burnt rag doll in his hand. The dwarf grunted as he tried to stop his quivering lips and wiped at his eyes. A small whimper escaped his lips as he pushed the dolls hair out of its face, he felt a sharp pain enter his torso when he remembered seeing this doll on fire. He and Bofur had been here selling their toys and trinkets at a stall that had been burnt to ash during Smaug's first attack.

The entire company was quiet as they absorbed the scenes around them, the eerie silence of the abandoned city filled Bilbo's ears as he moved along. He wished he could erase the images that were thrown at him at every time he turned. He gazed upwards once again as the sun shone reached its peak and brought its welcomed joy to such a place of grief.

He continued to walk with Ori, the youngest who was entering this place for the first time. The young dwarf's eyes were watery and sorrowful, the lines on his forehead seemed to darken and his shoulders slumped down as he pulled at his woollen sleeves.

They rounded a corner in street and Ori immediately turned away and walked towards his brothers who stood at the lopsided carousel and pushed it gently causing it to turn with a haunting squeal.

Bilbo felt the hair all over his body stand on edge. He placed his hand over his mouth choking back a gasp when he saw the charred remains of a small family who had sought shelter between two buildings. He assumed it was the mother who held onto the child and covered their eyes and it was the father who stood protectively over them his face inches away from his wife's.

He could almost hear the screams of fear that broke the air, the sound of the dragon's wings sweeping overhead, the gusting of the wind it created that'd knock people off their feet and the crackling and waning of a city on fire.

He turned away from the scene with his imagination running lose and his chest pulling and his breath slowing. He didn't wipe the tears from his face, in this place sadness was welcome.

That was when he heard it, a low hum that echoed down the street, the voice was low and sorrowful. It was Thorin. He sang of grief, sadness and hope even in the aftermath of such tragedy.

The other dwarves took up the tune filling the streets with tight voices and a hope that this would never happen again, with the same fear they'd felt that day. With the same grief they had felt as they counted their losses and the same anger they still felt because of that dreaded beast.

Bilbo sat on a large stone and closed his eyes letting the cold kiss his nose and the sound of the Dwarvish lament touch his heart and fill his body. Though he could not understand Khuzdul, he felt and understood every word of the lament as it echoed throughout Dale. He finally had an understanding of what real destruction a dragon could do. The Took part of him begged him to stay and explore more of the city, but his heart would not allow him to.

The song had taught him that and had resonated in his head throughout that evening as the sun dipped below the horizon. He drew his blankets around him, shut his tired eyes and dreamt of Dale and far away places.

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Thanks for reading!


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